It was delightful to look at her at such times; every part of her partook of the merriment, so that her hands, feet, and waist, might all be said to laugh for themselves.

Cornelia could express a great deal more in a bodily than in a spiritual way.

Her material self, indeed, seemed so completely and bounteously endowed as to leave little place or occasion for a soul.

The warm, rounded, fragrant, wholesome personality which met the eye, satisfied it; the harmonious tumult of life, that thrilled in every movement, was contentment to the other perceptions; the thought of a soul, bringing with it that other of death, was cold and inconsistent.
Such mortal perfection loses its full effect, unless we can look upon it as physically immortal: as soon as we begin to refine our ideas into the abstract, we sully our enjoyment.
"But your mother must have given you some idea of what a sister would be," continued Cornelia, presently.
"Would she?
I wish I had one!" said the young man, unconscious that no such desire had ever entered his head till now, and yet at a loss to account for its presence.

"Mine died more than twenty years ago," he explained.
"The poor boy! I believe he don't know what a woman is!" murmured Cornelia to herself, perhaps not displeased at the reflection that it lay with her to enlighten him.